


that day in september

by majesdane



Category: Degrassi the Next Generation
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-06
Updated: 2009-12-06
Packaged: 2017-10-04 05:33:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majesdane/pseuds/majesdane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>There's no awkward smile shared between them; neither says a word.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	that day in september

**Author's Note:**

> AU. Alex and Paige never go to school together. Paige doesn't fail out of Banting. Also, they are both living in New York City. They're also probably about 25 or so.

_that night i met you i wrote: it is possible i have imagined my entire life._  
\-- sarah manguso

**i. hold**

Brown eyes.

They're not very striking, she thinks, as she sits in Starbucks, sipping her latte and momentarily locking gazes with another girl in line. They're just an ordinary chocolate color. Or no, hazel. But there's nothing striking about them, she tells herself, and scans the front page of the newspaper idly.

But then she looks up again. The girl is waiting in line with her hands shoved in the pockets of her winter coat, red scarf draped around her neck casually. Her hair has a nice sort of shine to it --

\-- The girl turns, as if she can feel Paige's eyes on her. Catches Paige watching her. Paige flushes, embarrassed.

There's no awkward smile shared between them; neither says a word. Paige ducks her head back down and pretends to read the newspaper intently.

But there really is something about that girl's eyes, even if they're not significant in a beautiful sort of way.

 

**ii. reach**

She runs into the dark-haired girl again two weeks later -- literally. She's coming out of Starbucks carrying four cups of coffee and juggling her purse and phone when she walks smack into the girl going in. Coffee spills everywhere; one cup falls and hits the pavement, coffee splattering across her legs and her new white shoes.

"It's all right," the girl says, when Paige begins to stammer out an apology, feeling like an idiot. Her voice is low and smooth. Pretty.

Closer up, Paige can see that her eyes aren't one clear-cut brown color, but a mix of all the shades of brown. But she's not really paying attention; she's trying to not cry from having made herself out to look so clumsy.

She doesn't go inside and buy a new coffee. She can't. Not with the other girl inside.

Instead she walks three blocks further and goes to a Starbucks there, even though she's already running late for her meeting, and she looks like a mess with wrinkled, coffee-stained clothes.

 

**iii. fall**

At night, sometimes, she dreams of kissing her.

Of course, Paige is sensible enough to realize that these dreams are far too unrealistic. But she still imagines leaning forward, pressing her lips against those of the dark-haired, nameless girl. She thinks that she would taste like coffee.

Or perhaps chocolate. She's not entirely sure.

In her daydreams, she thinks of meeting that girl again; pulling her in by that bright red scarf, pressing her up against the cool brick wall in the alley besides the Starbucks; running her fingers through hair that feels like silk against her skin, and gazing into brown eyes that spark something in her that she hasn't felt in a long time.

Or ever, really.

She's had her dalliances, of course. High school crushes, flings, boys that she dated in college that were nothing but things to bring home to her parents to try and make them forget about the time she told them that she liked girls too.

This is different.

 

**iv. start**

Two months later, and she's sitting in one of the booths in Starbucks against the back wall during her lunch break, going over some paperwork for an afternoon meeting.

The dark-haired girl slides into the seat across from her, uninvited, but not unwelcome.

Paige flushes and keeps her eyes averted, only just barely nodding when the girl says hello in that pretty voice of hers, and lays her scarf and coat down on the seat beside her. Paige is almost afraid to look up, really, to look into those eyes and see herself reflected in them, see all the things she wished she could have.

A warm hand is placed upon her own, lightly. Paige looks up, despite herself.

"I'm Alex," the girl says, with a small smile.

"Paige," Paige replies, smiling back.

It's not Shakespeare. It's not all the things she'd imagined she'd say if this day ever came, not all the perfectly thought out lines she'd rehearsed over and over again in her head. And it's not the kiss she's been dreaming of for so long, where their lips meet across the table and they accidentally knock over the sugar container, which looks so stark against the dark tabletop.

But it's a start.


End file.
